"Power couple, huh?"
The words had been Jake's—tossed out half-joking in the chaos of last night—but they lingered like an afterimage, faint and stubborn at the edges of Sable's thoughts. She told herself it didn't matter. None of it did.
And yet…
TimeWrapped was still off. She'd noticed it during the tournament—the hesitation in his hands, the half-second delay before a combo, the spark in his eyes dulled under static. He wasn't gone. Not completely. That sharp, electric instinct she'd fought before—it was still there, buried, waiting.
Maybe another match would draw it out again.
So that morning, before classes began, she sent the message.
AkarisLite → TimeWrapped: Rematch. After school.
Clean. Simple. No room for debate.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, satisfied.Until, later, a notification blinked across her screen—ACA Crew (12 new messages).
Curious, she opened it.
A wall of chaos greeted her: memes, complaints about early alarms, Jake arguing about who was supposed to bring pastries, and Marcus trying (and failing) to impose order.
Sable blinked at the scrolling thread.
Apparently, Raxian and his crew hung out every morning before school—at Tess's café.
Like clockwork.
Was she… included in that now?
The cafeteria lunch had been one thing. The ramen outing, another.But this—casual mornings, inside jokes, shared routines—this was different.They weren't just classmates. They were trying to fold her in.
She wasn't sure how to feel about that.
Sable had spent her whole life moving—school to school, city to city. Attachment was never an option. Her dad's job meant boxes, new apartments, unfamiliar hallways. Getting close only meant tearing it away later.
So she'd learned to keep her distance. It was easier not to reach.Safer not to hope.
But maybe… it wasn't pointlessness that kept her alone.Maybe it was fear—of losing something before it could even settle.
The chat pinged again.
[Jake-Meister's Gang Chat]
Jake: emergency breakfast. woke up late. need fuel.
Marcus: translation: you slept through your alarm again.
Jake: semantics. point is, croissant time.
Tess: I'm not discounting you again.
Jake: don't have to. Marcus is paying.
Marcus: Just like I did for the ramen last night?
Jake: exactly. team tradition now.
Marcus: pretty sure extortion isn't a "team tradition."
Ava: You really need to learn the value of money.
Jake: Of course I know the value of money. it's whatever Marcus has in his wallet.
Tess: Taking advantage of Marcus like that is gonna bite you someday.
Jake: if karma wants me, it can get in line behind my sleep debt.
Logan: you deserve both.
Bruce: I'm bringing my own coffee. not funding your pastry addiction.
Jake: addiction? it's called school survival energy.
Marcus: can't argue with that one.
Jake: oh and sable's coming too.
Sable: …am I?
Jake: yeah. team breakfast. mandatory attendance.
Tess: the mandatory attendance of Jake showing up late and making everyone else feed him.
Jake: see? she gets it.
Logan: no, she really doesn't.
Sable: …why is this chat even called "Jake-Meister's Gang"?
Jake: duh. without me, this chat would be dull as hell.
Raxian: debatable.
Marcus: I'd rename it in a heartbeat if he didn't throw a tantrum every time.
Jake: democracy is dead here.
Tess: you killed it.
Jake: worth it.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. For a second, she considered locking it and walking away.
Instead, she typed:
Sable: …Fine. I'll come.
She stared at the message for a long moment after hitting send.
Maybe… she'd give Raxian and his crew a proper chance.
---
Raxian hadn't expected to see her.
The morning air was sharp, carrying that thin chill before sunrise when the city still felt half-asleep. He stepped out of his building, hood up, breath fogging faintly in the pale light—and froze.
A little ways down the block, a figure moved through the quiet. Hands in her jacket pockets. Beanie tugged low. Gait steady, deliberate.Sable.
For a heartbeat, they just stared across the distance—like the world had paused between them.
Then she tilted her head slightly, a wordless acknowledgment. Not surprise. Not awkwardness. Just… recognition.And kept walking.
Raxian blinked, hesitated—then started forward too.
Somehow, by the time the street bent, she was beside him. No greeting. No explanation. Just there—steps syncing with his like it was second nature.
It threw him off more than he wanted to admit.She didn't seem to notice—or maybe she did, and just didn't care.
"You live around here," she said finally.Not a question. Just a fact dropped into the quiet.
"Guess so." He shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't know you did."
"Apparently." Her tone was dry, almost amused. "Small world."
Silence settled again—easy, unforced.But under it, Raxian's thoughts wouldn't sit still.
He thought about the tournament yesterday—how she'd played, how sharp her timing was, how natural it felt having her on the same side.He thought about the group chat lighting up this morning, Jake declaring emergency breakfast, like it was just… normal now.Like Sable being part of them was normal.
It wasn't.Not yet.
He almost said something—about the match, about her performance, about anything—but the words snagged halfway up his throat.What was he even supposed to say? Good job yesterday? You carried us?None of it sounded right.And honestly, he still wasn't sure how to talk to her.
So he didn't.
They just walked, the quiet stretching between them—not heavy, not awkward, just… there.
By the time the café came into view, the strangeness hadn't faded.If anything, it had settled deeper.
She was part of their group now.And somehow, walking beside her felt—…normal.
Too normal.
---
The bell above the café door chimed softly as it swung open—and in walked Raxian.
With Sable.
Side by side.
Jake froze mid-bite, croissant halfway to his mouth, flakes still on his sleeve. Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head toward the door.
His eyes narrowed. His chewing stopped.
No way.
And then, with all the composure of a man witnessing betrayal firsthand, he swallowed and leaned back in his chair, voice dripping with mock drama."Well, well, well. Look who decided to walk in together."
Tess didn't even look up from behind the counter, stirring her coffee like she'd seen this movie before. "Jake, don't start. They were just walking here."
"Were they?" Jake drawled, pointing his croissant like it was damning evidence. "Or was it a secret morning stroll?"
Marcus, seated nearby, took a slow sip from his mug. "You're jealous."
"I'm not jealous," Jake shot back, a little too fast. "I just—y'know—think it's funny. Funny how they both just… conveniently showed up. Together."
Tess raised a brow. "You're literally sitting there eating a croissant Marcus paid for."
Marcus lifted a finger. "Which, for the record, he promised was the last one."
Jake waved a dismissive hand. "Team synergy tax."
Across the table, Bruce calmly lifted his own thermos and took a sip.Tess sighed. "Bruce, you don't have to bring your own coffee. We are in a café. I can make it for you."
Bruce shrugged. "If Jake's freeloading on Marcus, someone's gotta balance the economy."
Jake gasped. "You wound me."
Logan leaned back in his chair, hood up, watching the exchange with mild disbelief. "You're all ridiculous."
Ava just gave a faint hum beside him, gaze flicking toward the door as Sable stepped in fully, Raxian trailing just half a step behind. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than usual—quiet, analytical.
Sable, for her part, looked between the group, unreadable. This was all… bizarre. Loud.
But fine.
If they wanted her here—she'd test the waters.
She walked to the counter, ordered a drink from Tess with calm precision, and, when it was ready, took a seat beside Bruce — the same spot she'd been assigned in class.
Familiar. Predictable.Safe.
Bruce gave her a simple nod. "Morning."
Sable blinked once, then returned it. "Morning."
Jake's grin faltered the instant Raxian approached the booth.
Before Raxian could even think about where to sit, Jake slapped a hand on the cushion beside him."Yo. Right here, champ. Prime seating. You know the drill."
Raxian paused, brow lifting at the sudden insistence. "...Do I?"
"Tradition," Jake said quickly, gesturing for him to sit. "Seat of honor. Can't mess with the system."
After a beat, Raxian shrugged and slid into his usual spot beside him — same as always.
Jake leaned back, satisfied, like he'd just averted some catastrophic event.Order restored. Balance maintained. Absolutely nothing suspicious going on.
He tore into his croissant like a man defending territory.
From behind the counter, Tess gave him a look. "You're ridiculous."
"Preventative measures," Jake said through a mouthful of pastry. "You don't mess with the sacred seating chart."
Logan didn't even look up from his coffee. "You mean your ego."
Jake pointed his croissant at him. "Exactly."
Bruce hid a faint smile behind his cup. Tess just shook her head. "You're impossible, Jake."
"Persistent," Jake corrected, crossing his arms. "There's a difference."
"Not really," Logan muttered.
Sable exhaled softly, resting her elbows on the table. She didn't quite understand this group. Their rhythm was chaotic, their banter relentless.
But for now… she'd let it be.
If they wanted her in this strange little orbit, she'd see how far it went.
---
The morning hallways hummed with noise — lockers slamming, voices overlapping, the faint scuff of sneakers across tile. But this time, Sable wasn't walking through it alone.
For once, she wasn't a quiet shadow hugging the edge of the corridor. She was in the middle of it — surrounded by Raxian's crew. Jake half-talking, half-shouting about something breakfast-related; Bruce sipping his energy drink; and Marcus already scrolling through his phone.
And Sable — hands in her jacket pockets, expression neutral — simply moved with them.
When eyes turned, they didn't just land on her anymore. They landed on them.
The whispers followed, weaving through the hallway like static.
"She's back already?""Did you see the tournament? She destroyed that Quinn in the final match.""Yeah, rumor is she solo carried that game.""And now she's running with Raxian's crew? That's… new.""Guess they're building some kind of all-star team."
The competition posters that had papered the walls yesterday were gone, leaving faint tape marks like ghosts. But the echo of the tournament still lingered — the cheers, the shock, the headlines spreading through group chats overnight.
Things changed fast around here.
Sable kept her gaze straight ahead. If the noise bothered her, she didn't show it. But Raxian noticed how her shoulders stayed a little too even, her stride a little too measured — like she'd learned long ago how to walk through attention without flinching.
Then — movement up ahead.
Two figures broke from the flow of students, stepping into their path.
Raxian recognized them immediately.Their opponents from yesterday.
Top 2 contenders in the school — same leaderboard tier as him.One a jungle main, all sharp focus and restless energy. The other — the Quinn player — tall, cocky, eyes flicking quick and sharp across their group.
The tension that crackled between them was subtle but unmistakable.
For a second, no one spoke. Just a quiet recognition between rivals.
Then the jungle player stepped forward, breaking the silence first with a grin."Fair game yesterday."
Raxian's shoulders shifted, unsure. He opened his mouth ——but Jake got there first. "Damn right it was!"
Before Raxian could react, Jake clapped a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward with his usual easy grin."This guy was cracked, man. You should've seen him late game."
"Jake—" Raxian started, but Jake only reached up and ruffled his hair like an overexcited brother."Don't be shy, champ. You earned it."
Raxian shot him a glare, batting his hand away, but didn't argue.
The Quinn player stepped in next, smirk faint, extending a hand. "Guess we underestimated you guys."
Jake clasped it without hesitation, his grin all charm. "Happens to the best of us."
Sable didn't move. She stood a step back, silent, gaze cutting like glass. She didn't take his hand — didn't even pretend. Just watched him until his confidence faltered and he drew it back.
Then, quick as instinct, his eyes flicked toward Ava.
And for half a heartbeat, their gazes locked — sharp, assessing.Ava didn't blink.
And whatever confidence he'd tried to wear vanished. He looked away first.
Ava didn't say a word. But her gaze lingered — sharp, assessing — long after they'd walked past.
Logan noticed. Of course he did.
He glanced sidelong at her, eyebrow raised in quiet question.
She didn't respond. Didn't need to. The look in her eyes said enough.
Something about that guy wasn't sitting right.
---
By lunch, Ava had vanished again.
It wasn't unusual. She did that sometimes — slipping out of sight between bells, moving through hallways like a shadow.No one really questioned it.
So when someone finally noticed her empty seat, eyes naturally drifted to Logan.
He just shrugged, calm as ever. "She'll turn up."And that was that.
---
She wasn't skipping. She was watching.
From the far end of the second-floor hall, Ava leaned casually against a locker, eyes following the familiar shape of Darren Vale through the crowd below. He moved with that same restless swagger he'd had during the match — confident, but not careless. The kind of player who thought reputation made him untouchable.
She knew better.
Her gaze followed him through the cafeteria line, then out past the quad, every step quiet, unhurried, blending into the flow of students. Not stalking — just tracking. Like studying a pattern she'd already solved once before.
A flick of his wrist. A whispered comment to a classmate.The same tell she'd seen on match day, when his Quinn had pressed too hard — too desperate — into Sable's lane.The same smirk she'd caught in the corner of her eye as the ambush reports spread.
Yeah. It was him.
By the time the final bell rang, Ava was back.
She slipped into step beside Logan like she'd been there all day, expression unreadable.
Jake was already drawing attention — loud, animated, reenacting a play from yesterday's match with exaggerated sound effects while Tess groaned and Marcus tried not to smile.
Bruce noticed her first. "Where were you?"Ava's only response was a small shrug. "Here now."He studied her for a beat longer, but didn't press.
She just sipped her drink, gaze distant, mind already on something else.
---
Steam drifted faintly through the bathroom doorway as Ava twisted the shower handle off, cold water tapering into silence. She towel-dried briskly, pulling her hoodie back over her damp hair, droplets still clinging to the edge of her jaw.
The apartment was quiet — too quiet — save for the muffled hum of the city outside. A few lights glowed down the hallway, soft and warm, pooling against the tile.
"Miles," she called, voice calm but firm. "Your turn. You've got school tomorrow."
A younger voice called back from the living room. "Five minutes!"
"Now," she said, stepping out into the hall.
Her little brother groaned but shuffled past her, clutching his towel like a cape. She smiled faintly as he went, shaking her head. "Don't flood the place."
"I won't!" came his distant protest.
Ava lingered for a moment, gaze drifting toward the darkened kitchen. The table was still set for two — a habit from their parents, even though neither of them would be home until long after midnight. Another double shift, another dinner of leftovers and silence.
It didn't bother her. Not anymore.
She moved to her room, flicking the light on low.It was tidy — always tidy — but lived in: shelves stacked with books and a few trophies from robotics club, a desk lit by the glow of her monitor, papers arranged in perfect, practical order. On one wall hung a corkboard pinned with notes and quiet reminders — school schedules, grocery lists, and a small photo of her and Miles, grinning under a summer sky.
Ava sat at her desk, toweling her hair once more before glancing at her phone. The faint hum of the city lights outside reflected against the screen — the open chat from earlier still visible.
Her thumb hovered. Then, quietly, she hit "New Chat."
Create Group.
Five names.Ava. Bruce. Tess. Marcus. Logan.
She typed the first message.Ava: We need to talk.
A moment passed. Then:Ava: I know who sent those three after Sable.
The typing bubbles flickered, paused.
Bruce: You're sure?Ava: Positive.Tess: How can you be sure?Logan: If she was right about the ambushers, she's right about this too.Marcus: Can't argue with that.
Her thumbs hesitated only for a second before she finished it.Ava: It was Darren Vale.
Silence. The kind that carried weight.
Finally, Bruce typed again.Bruce: Why not add the others?
She stared at the screen. At his question. At the reflection of city lights in the dark glass.
And then, without typing a word, she simply locked the phone.
Bruce would figure it out.Jake couldn't keep a secret.Raxian would take it too hard.And Sable — Sable didn't need anyone else digging into her fights.
Some things were better handled quietly.
Ava set the phone down beside the framed photo of her and Miles. Her gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
From the hallway, she heard the bathroom door creak open."All done!"
"Good." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Brush your teeth. Lights out in ten."
"Okay!"
Her smile lingered a moment longer before fading back into calm. The phone stayed face-down, the city lights still spilling softly across her desk.
She'd handle it.
---
The day had been strange.
Sable — at their café.Walking beside him to school.Now somehow folded into their group, like it had all been decided without asking.
Jake, of course, had insisted they celebrate — calling it her "formal induction" and dragging everyone downtown after class.Bubble tea. Laughter. Stories.Sable leaning against a lamppost, quiet as ever, not really joining in — just there.
Raxian wasn't sure if she wanted to be part of this… or if Jake had just pulled her in like he always did.The whole thing felt sudden. Too sudden.
When the night wound down and the others started heading home, she matched his stride again.No planning, no words — just walked beside him, like that morning.
Same streets. Same silence.Only the sound of their steps under the orange glow of the lamps.
At the corner where their paths split, she gave a small tilt of her head."See you tomorrow."
Raxian blinked, nodded once. "Yeah."
By the time he reached his room, the day's weirdness still clung to him — quiet, heavy, impossible to name.He sat down, booted up the EGO client…
…and froze.
There, waiting in his inbox:
AkarisLite → TimeWrapped:Rematch. After school.
AkarisLite was online.As if they'd been waiting.
Before Raxian could even process the message, a custom invite blinked onto his screen.He hesitated — then clicked Accept.
The lobby loaded.Two names. Two avatars. No chat.
Champion select ticked down.
AkarisLite locked in Akali.Of course they did. Akaris — Akali. The names lined up too neatly to be coincidence.
Raxian hovered over Ekko. His usual. His comfort.Only this time, his fingers didn't feel steady.He'd been carried in the tournament — and he knew it.Was he really ready for this?
Still, he clicked Lock In.
The game loaded, Summoner's Rift blooming across his monitor.No "glhf." No taunt. Nothing.AkarisLite just walked straight to midlane, quiet and precise.
But the moment minions met, something was off.
They played recklessly.Dashing in and out of waves, burning cooldowns early, dropping shroud in strange, random places — even taking tower shots on purpose.
Raxian frowned.What was this?
It wasn't the same cold, surgical Yasuo that had crushed him before.This was… chaos.Like they were baiting him. Testing him.
For the first few minutes, he stayed patient. Farmed. Watched.But at level six, impatience won.
He went in. Hard.Timewinder → Dash → Ignite.Akali blinked through smoke, HP bar flickering — she'd already eaten two tower shots.
It should've been his kill.
But in the haze of her shroud, a single combo turned it.One misstep — one mistimed Chronobreak — and she cut him down first.
First Blood.
The screen dimmed around his grayed-out champion.
Raxian stared, stunned — then heat surged in his chest.Were they trolling him?Flexing? Showing they could outplay him even when they were messing around?
His hand curled into a fist before he could stop it —thud
The desk rattled under his knuckles.
That old frustration — the one he thought he'd buried — snapped awake.And for the first time in months, the anger burned hot again.
AkarisLite didn't type anything.No gg, no post-match taunt.Just—left the game.
The victory screen faded, leaving only the quiet hum of his PC.Raxian exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temples. His pulse was still thrumming from the fight. From the loss.
Then—BEEP.
His phone lit up on the desk.
A call.
From Sable.
He blinked.What?
For a second, he just stared at the screen — her name glowing in the dark.Sable didn't call. Ever.
Confusion furrowed his brow.Why was she—?And why did it say Video call?
He hesitated.Then, slowly, thumb hovering over Accept, he answered.
"...Hello?"
The screen flickered — and there she was.Sable. Calm. Composed.No greeting. No explanation.
Just silence.
Then, without a word, she turned her camera.
It focused on a monitor.Her EGO client.A match history list.
At the very top:Custom – TimeWrapped vs AkarisLite.
Raxian's breath hitched.His brain stalled.
The camera tilted again — swinging back toward her.
Sable met his gaze through the screen, eyes steady. Cool.Like she was just… confirming something obvious.
No apology.No smugness either.Just quiet certainty.
He stared."...You?" he managed, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and a laugh.
Her brow lifted a fraction. "You're only realizing that now?"
Raxian blinked.Once. Twice.
Everything from the day — the café, the walk, the way she'd looked at him — rewound in his head all at once.
Of course it was her.How had he not seen it?
"Wait, but—" he started, still reeling.She cut in lightly, almost amused. "Relax. It was just a match."
Just a match.Right.Except it wasn't. Not for him.
He leaned back in his chair, still trying to process it — her voice, her timing, her.
It explained everything.And somehow, nothing at all.